‘Now that you’re starting to go to things,’ he said, on our walk this morning, ‘I was thinking that’d be a good time for me to see X. In the evenings.’ Whereas he once used to think, he said, that it was ‘ridiculous and wrong’ of me to get up in the night and sleep in the spare bed (because he snored! which is not mentioned), he has now begun to see that ‘separateness, for adults, is a natural and good thing’. If it weren’t for X, I’d be fine with this. But somehow I feel manipulated, roughed-up by him. As if he’s turning me against myself. You want separateness? I’ll show you separateness!